


Spirit

by Mews1945



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-27
Updated: 2005-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:17:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mews1945/pseuds/Mews1945
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeking a moment of solitude, Frodo encounters dangerous strangers on the quest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spirit

The nine walkers had made camp near a little village because Aragorn wanted to buy supplies and he had hopes that a visit to the inn there might gain some tidings of those who were pursuing them. They had been in the wild for ten days and nights, and Pippin, in particular, would have liked to go with him, but Aragorn had said sternly that they must not go near the village or allow anyone else to know of their presence.

They had been rather sullen as they set up their camp and settled down to wait, while Aragorn went on alone. They had no fire, because smoke from a campfire would give away their presence there in the wood close by the village. Their supper was made up of dried meat and fruit, hard bread, and water. No hot broth or tea to warm their bodies and hearts, no hot water for washing away a bit of the grime of travel.

Pippin, of course, voiced his complaints loudly enough that he earned himself a scolding from Gandalf and was even chided gently by Legolas. His cousins, meantime, wished they might allow themselves to complain as well. Merry spoke harshly to Pippin, which made Pippin cross. Frodo, angered by Merry's insensitivity toward their baby cousin, rebuked Merry, who in turn became even more petulant than Pippin.

Boromir sat with his back braced against a tree, watching and listening with a lowering, scornful expression that stung Frodo's pride. The Man clearly thought hobbits nothing but children, and troublesome children at that. And what could Frodo answer? Quite honestly, they were behaving badly, and he knew it, but he could not seem to help himself. He was so tired and discouraged, and his feet hurt and his body ached from the long walking and the lean rations and the growing weight of the Ring on its chain about his neck. He was well aware that everyone else must be just as weary as he and he wished that he could feel something besides irritation with all of them, but at the moment he wanted only to be away from them.

Gandalf had withdrawn to a place apart, where he sat hunched, smoking his pipe, his gaze so distant that Frodo thought Gandalf did not see or hear anything around him, but walked some inner landscape of his own. Boromir had taken out his knife and was sharpening the blade with a small dark stone he carried in his pack for that purpose. Legolas and Gimli sat together some distance from the others, speaking softly to each other, though Frodo knew they were both on guard for anything that might endanger the camp. Merry and Pippin had already buried themselves in their blankets, their brief spat forgotten, and Sam was preparing the bedding for Frodo and himself. Everyone seemed reconciled to their misery.

Frodo rose and waved to Legolas when the Elf looked at him. He made the gesture that meant he must have a few moments to himself, and Legolas nodded, a slight frown creasing his fair brow, although he did not arise. They had all learned that there were at least a few moments when a member of the Fellowship must be alone. Frodo knew that Legolas would come in search of him if he were away from the camp for longer than the Elf judged prudent.

He made his way into the surrounding woods, moving in silence as only a hobbit could move, until he could no longer see the faint gleam of Legolas's hair in the light of the full moon. He opened the flap on his trousers so that he could relieve himself. The night was very quiet around him, although he heard the call of a nightbird and the hum of insects. He finished and adjusted his clothing, then walked a few steps farther before he sat himself down on a fallen tree branch and sighed, thankful for a few moments of solitude. He had never realized, until he had begun traveling in the company of the Fellowship, how much he loved the times when he could be alone, with only his books for company. It was not hobbitlike, he knew, to want that. Hobbits were sociable creatures, who wanted and needed the company of others of their kind. A hobbit who preferred solitude and silence to company, books to the conversations of others, was thought to be a very odd hobbit indeed.

Frodo sat still, listening for the voice of the nightbird again, for the rustle of leaves and the gentle whisper of the wind. The moon was a disk of mithril, visible beyond the shadows of the branches overhead. The air smelled of moss and trees and faintly of water in some stream that must flow near their camp. Perhaps he could find it, and take a moment to wash his face and hands. Even a cold wash would be a luxury.

He had been away for only a few moments. Legolas would not yet be concerned about him, knowing Frodo's particular need for a bit of privacy in their days of enforced closeness. Frodo arose and walked a few steps, listening intently for the sound of water. The ground under his feet was soft and mossy and layered with fallen leaves. He enjoyed its coolness against his feet. He moved on, his way lighted by the white dapples of moonlight filtered through the trees, the scent of water, and now the sound of it luring him onward. A few more steps and he found the stream, a wide creek that ran swiftly between its low banks.

Frodo knelt at the edge of the stream, scooped water up in his cupped hands, and splashed it over his face, gasping at the icy coldness on his skin. He washed his face quickly, then his hands, and stood, wiping them on his shirt front. He would go back to the campfire and tell Legolas of the stream he'd found. The others would be pleased to be able to have a wash in the morning. It would do them all good, and perhaps ease some of the strain that made them so impatient with each other.

He turned and froze, astonished and then frightened to find that he was no longer alone. Four Men had surrounded him without his being aware of them. He could hardly believe they had been so silent as to take him unaware. He could turn and jump into the water at his back if he must, but he did not wish to take that way out without knowing how deep it was, or where it might take him if he should be caught in its current.

The Men moved a bit closer. He could not see their faces because of the hooded cloaks they wore, which cast them into deep shadow, but they carried bows and had knives at their belts, and they loomed over him in a threatening way. The nearest of them reached and touched Frodo's shoulder, as though to assure himself that the hobbit was real.

"What are you then?" he demanded in a low, coarse voice.

Frodo tried to wet his lips, but his mouth had gone dry. "Frodo Baggins," he said, trying very hard to speak with confidence. "And you, sir?"

The Men drew back slightly, then a chuckle came from one of them. "Listen to it, then," he said. "Speaks like a right toff, it does. What are you doin' out here in our wood, little thing? Where'd you come from?"

"I am a traveler," Frodo replied, his voice trembling and betraying his fear. "My friends and I have a camp nearby. I am sure they would welcome you, if you would care to come back with me."

"We saw the camp. No fire, like it's hidden you want to be," one of the Men said, his voice hard. "It's our village over there, see, and we protect it from such as would do it harm. We don't like what we've seen of you and your friends so far, little thing. Now, answer our questions. What are you and what are you doing here in our wood?"

Frodo shivered, wishing he had not come so far from the camp and his friends. Were there others like these hard men who were even now surrounding the camp?

"I am a hobbit. Frodo Baggins is my name. My friends and I are traveling to Minas Tirith."

"And why would you be going to the White City? Don't you know it lies in the shadow and the threat of Mordor?" one of the Men demanded. "No one goes toward Mordor."

"Nevertheless, that is our road," Frodo replied, and took a cautious step backward, feeling the very edge of the streambank soft beneath his feet.

The Man to his right seized him with a swiftness that took his breath, jerking him forward, away from the dubious safety of the water, and Frodo cried out in terror as he was lifted off his feet. He struggled to free himself, but the Man's grip was powerful, and painful, and he shook Frodo hard.

"Be quiet! We've the right to take you to our village for questioning, and that's what we'll do, and we'll be sending out others to bring in your friends as well, so stop your squalling!"

Frodo bit his lip to silence himself, and stopped fighting, going limp in the man's grip. He was set on his feet again, and huddled his shoulders, struggling to withhold tears of fright and pain. His shoulders and arms felt bruised and wrenched from the violent shaking.

The Man who appeared to be the leader said, "Bind his hands." Frodo winced at the thought of being bound and at the mercy of these harsh strangers. To be small in a world of big folk was hard enough. To be taken captive by Men without mercy in their souls was terrifying. Frodo stood surrounded by such Men, struggling to hide his fear, still unable to believe that this was happening to him. He had been lulled, he thought, by the companionship of Men such as Aragorn and Boromir. Aragorn was stern and fierce, but he had become a true friend to the hobbits. Even though Boromir was remote, he was still kind, in his way. Frodo had forgotten that not all of the big folk were as noble as his companions. He had forgotten, hobbit that he was, that danger was all round them at every moment.

"I would not touch him again, if I were you." At the sound of that silken voice, Frodo felt his heart lurch, and absolute joy filled him. He saw the Men wheel around, as shocked as he had been only moments before that anyone could have come upon them without their awareness.

Legolas stood a few yards away, shining like silver in the spangles of white moonlight, his bow drawn, an arrow at the ready. A little distance from him was Boromir, his great sword in his hand, a deadly promise of mayhem in his eyes. Gandalf himself was with them, and though he was old and gray and his back was a bit bent, he was a potent figure as he stood with his staff held ready in his hands and his eyes gleaming.

"The lad belongs with us," Legolas said softly. "And we do not intend that you should take him anywhere at all. We have no desire to do you harm, but we will not allow you to hurt our friend."

The Men stood irresolute, bewildered, and Frodo took his chance to escape from among them. He slipped between two of them, as swift and elusive as a shadow, and felt a hand grasp at the edge of his cloak, but he jerked it free and ran to Gandalf. Gandalf placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder and patted him, and Frodo pressed himself against the wizard's side, buried both hands in the reassuring folds of Gandalf's rough gray robe, and clung.

"We mean no one harm," Gandalf said to the Men. "We are bound to a Quest, and seek only safe passage through these lands. We ask nothing of you, except to allow us to go in peace. We certainly do not mean harm to your village."

"Then why do you hide out here in this wood?" the leader asked, his voice cold with suspicion. "Why do you conceal your presence and eschew the comfort of our inn, or even of a fire of your own?"

"There are those who seek us."

"Seek you? And for what reason are you sought?"

"They would prevent us from fulfilling our purpose," Gandalf answered, and Frodo, who knew him best, could detect the impatience in his voice. The wizard was doing all he could to calm the Men, but he was growing weary of their questions. Still, to anyone who did not know him well, Gandalf appeared to be perfectly composed. He leaned on his staff now, looking kindly at the Men.

"You wish to protect your village and your homes and families," he said. "Believe me when I tell you that our purpose is to help you do that. Our errand is vital to the safety of your village and to all of the rest of Middle Earth as well."

"So you say," one of the Men snapped. "Why should we believe you?"

Gandalf sighed. "Because we could easily have killed you all, if that had been our desire. Our friend Legolas is an Elf of the woodland realm and could have put arrows through all of you before you could have gathered yourselves to respond. Boromir could have beheaded you with one stroke whilst you were drawing your own sword. You have been brutal in your treatment of our friend, yet we have not responded in kind. That should tell you what kind of folk we are. But if you will not listen to reason, we are prepared to meet force with force."

Legolas loosed the arrow in his bow and it flew with a hiss and thudded into the tree within inches of the leader's head. Before anyone could take breath, the Elf had nocked another arrow and stood as before, a shining pale figure in the moonlight. The Men had all gasped and flinched as the arrow flew, and now stood motionless. Abruptly, the leader pushed back the hood of his cloak and showed a face that was harshly carved and lined, but not evil, and his companions likewise uncovered their heads. All were simply Men, and not the dark creatures that Frodo had been imagining when they had held him captive.

"Allain of Willowmarsh, at your service," the leader said, and even his voice seemed less coarse now that his face was visible. "This is Leanfal, Caran and Velanthal. I am sorry that we hurt your friend, but there is danger everywhere in these dark days, and we have learned to our sorrow that we cannot trust strangers."

"As have we all, I am sorry to say," Gandalf answered. "We will return to our camp, and wait for our friend who went into your village to purchase supplies, and then be on our way."

Allain came a few steps nearer, looking intently at Gandalf, and then at Frodo. "Do you speak truly of your errand, old one?" he asked. "Is there hope?"

Gandalf's hand was still on Frodo's shoulder, and he squeezed it very gently. "I promise you," he said. "That you are looking upon the very embodiment of hope."

The Men drew closer to each other, and in their eyes Frodo saw the desire to believe as they looked at him, then at his companions. Allain nodded, and bowed to them all.

"Then we shall go and leave you to continue your errand, and may you find your way in peace and safety."

The Men turned and walked away, and Legolas at last lowered his bow, Boromir sheathed his sword, and Gandalf sighed, his shoulders sagging.

"I am sorry," Frodo whispered. "I should not have come so far from camp."

"It is all right, Frodo." Gandalf patted his back. "Come, let us return to the others before Merry and Pippin wake up and become as worried as poor Sam."

They surrounded Frodo, and now he was glad to be so hemmed in among the tall figures, feeling safe with his companions about him. "Thank you," he said, looking up at Legolas, then at Boromir. "Thank you for being with me on this Quest. I should be so afraid without you all."

Legolas smiled faintly at him. "I am honored to be a part of this company, Frodo."

Boromir grunted. "I too, am glad to be one of the Fellowship," he said. "But it would do you well, Ringbearer, to remember that we cannot protect you if you will insist on going your own way, and leaving your companions behind."

Frodo started to bow his head, realizing the truth in Boromir's words, but at once his stubborn pride reared itself, and he stopped, facing the Man with his head raised and his back straight.

"I am not a child, or a fool, Boromir," he said, lowering his voice. "I know that I have much to learn, and I will be grateful to learn all that you can teach me, but I am not a lesser being, simply because I am smaller than you. I realize that I erred. I have apologized, and I shall not be so careless again. I will thank you to let this be the end of the matter."

He was aware that Gandalf and Legolas had gone on a few steps before they stopped to wait for him and the Man, but he paid them no further attention. He refused to lower his gaze as Boromir glared down at him.

Boromir's face softened after a moment, and a smile quirked the corners of his generous mouth. He knelt on one knee to face Frodo directly. "Well," he said. "I had wondered if there was any spirit beneath that meek demeanor, and now I see that there is quite a fierce one. Very well, Frodo Baggins. I will be your companion, and your teacher, if you allow it. And perhaps your friend, in time."

Frodo nodded. "Good. I should like that, very much." And he offered his hand, and felt it engulfed in Boromir's hard and calloused palm. Boromir clasped his hand briefly, then released him and stood.

"I would offer to bear you back to camp," he said. "If it will not offend your pride."

Frodo smiled. "I accept your offer," he said. "Your long legs will take us there much more swiftly than my own."

Boromir picked him up in his strong arms. Frodo was stiff and uneasy at first, remembering the hard grip of the villager who had grasped him, but Boromir's hands were gentle. To be held so near his warmth was comforting and Frodo soon relaxed. They reached the camp in only a few minutes, to find that Sam, Gimli, Merry and Pippin were all awake and worried. When Boromir set him down, Frodo was immediately surrounded by the arms of his fellow hobbits. He accepted severe scoldings from his cousins, then loving embraces from all three that nearly smothered him. Boromir stood watching them, puzzlement and amusement on his face, but, Frodo thought, the beginning of acceptance and understanding as well.

Later, when he lay warm and safe in the hobbits' blanket nest, with Pippin snuggled in his arms and Sam at his back, Frodo closed his eyes, content. Even though he'd been frightened and a little hurt before his friends had come in search of him, he was glad that he had taken his walk in the moonlight. The Fellowship had become stronger and closer than before, and he had even taught the mighty Boromir a bit about the spirit of hobbits.

 

End


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